


Take the Bullets Away

by LadyFogg



Series: Angel with a Shotgun [6]
Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Coping, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Language, Sex, Smoking, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Violence, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4927708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re getting restless and are through with being trapped in the Mill House. You come up with a scheme to escape so you can be free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take the Bullets Away

**Author's Note:**

> Fic Song: https://play.spotify.com/track/1FgFXxPsmUmiJMoJNi8idR

You can’t stand being inside the Mill House any longer.

It’s been nearly a month and aside from the clearing in the woods, you haven’t left the area. Not even to go to a store or a bar. You’re getting antsy. You need to breathe and get away. Unfortunately, there hasn’t been a chance. Every time you think you can sneak out for a few hours, John’s suddenly right there with you. It’s not like he’s really stopping you, he just insists on coming with you. Which is the opposite of what you want.

Chas also offers to take you places when John doesn’t. They both miss the point. You don’t just want to leave. You want to be alone. It’s not really that hard of a concept.

Part of you is wondering if they think you’re going to do something stupid. True you aren’t in the best mind set and true you do want to hit something. Maybe their fears are valid.

Doesn’t mean you still don’t want to do it.

Another part of you knows what John really fears if you leave without them. He’s afraid you won’t come back. The thought has crossed your mind. The more you think on it, the more you decide that if you’re going to leave, it should be for awhile. You need to sort things out. Think about what you want to do now that you’re alive again.

The connection you and John share is never going to go away, and while the mental exercises you’re doing are helping to block him out, you think time away from John might help you clear your head. Because right now, being in his presence and having him be in your head is just too much.

All you can think about is John and you need to separate yourself from him and figure out what you want to do next.

So, you begin to hatch a plan. All you need is the perfect opportunity. Which is provided to you when you hear Chas talking to John about a possible werewolf attack in the area.

“How bad?” John asks, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The three of you are sitting at the kitchen table. You and John had been meditating when Chas had entered. It was basically what you did when you weren’t drinking, eating or fooling around. You haven’t done much of the latter since it’s still too overwhelming sometimes.

“At least two murders already,” Chas says. “No one has reported being bit, so as far as I can tell it hasn’t spread.”

“I have silver bullets in my arsenal,” you offer. “It really wouldn’t be that difficult to take care of.” If you can get John to agree to the job, you can plan a moment to slip away. It wouldn’t be difficult. Chasing a werewolf and then when you know it's taken care of it, you can disappear. It’s pretty simple.

To your surprise, and frustration, John shakes his head. “No, too risky,” he says.

“John, seriously?” you ask. “I’m dying here. This is the perfect job to get us both back out into the field.”

“No,” John says firmly. “Not until we have a handle on this connection.”

Handle on it? You’d say you have a pretty good handle. “What else do you think we’re going to do with this connection?” you ask with annoyance. “We won’t know what we really can do until we’re in the field.”

“You need to be rested first,” John says, extinguishing his cigarette in the ashtray in front of him. He gets from the table. “End of discussion.”

_Ha!_

You snort with laughter. “‘End of discussion’?” you repeat. “Oh well then excuse me. Sorry for questioning your all knowingness! How dare I?!”

“Lola,” John says with exasperation, but you don’t stop.

“ _Please_ , forgive me, master!” you say, getting to your feet as well. “I cannot believe I went against your word! I’ll just see myself to my room until you come up with a proper punishment.”

“Bloody fucking hell, woman,” John says, but you cut him off again.

“No, no, no, you’re right. End of discussion. While I’m keeping my opinions and thoughts to myself do you want me to cook you dinner too? Iron your clothes? You know what, I’ll just go lay in bed until you have use for me! Just let me know when you want me to lift my skirt for you so you can have a go. Would _hate_ to defy you further and make you unhappy!” You make a sweeping, exaggerated bow before turning on your heel and stalking out of the room.

You know your outburst was over the top, but fuck it. It felt good. You have every intention of stomping off to your room like a child and slamming the door. It wouldn’t accomplish much, but it would feel fucking amazing. You need to reevaluate your plan anyways.

“John, you can’t keep her here,” Chas says in a low voice.

You still catch it though and stop your march to your room so you can hide around the corner and listen.

“I know that, Chas,” John says. You can hear the exhaustion in his voice and it’s so powerful, you can almost feel it, even with blocking him out of your head.

“What are you afraid of?” Chas asks him. “Do you think she came back wrong?”

“No, I don’t,” John says. “She’s still Lola. And she’s angry. I’ve seen her angry before. When we first met, she was just a ball of anger and resentment. That first encounter in the alley was painful to watch. When she was hunting that Succubus she had no regard for her own safety. She attacked physically knowing that it wouldn’t do much good. She’s even angrier than she was then. What do you think she’s going to do now?”

“What? You think that she’s going to try to get herself killed so she’ll go back to heaven?” Chas asks. “John, that’s not her. I haven’t known her long, but I don’t get the feeling that she has a death wish. She’s not going to get herself killed on purpose.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not an idiot,” John says. “That’s not what’s worrying me.”

Chas is quiet for a moment and part of you wonders if he will drop the subject. But he doesn’t. “Are you worried she’d leave?” he asks. “For good?”

“Yes,” John says bluntly.

“And that would be bad?” Chas questions. “For who, though? Her sake? Or yours?” When John doesn’t answer, he keeps going. “Isn’t this connection between you two supposed to help you feel what the other is feeling? What is she feeling?”

“It’s not that simple,” John says. “The meditating helps, but she’s blocking me as hard as she can.”

“Here’s a stupid question,” Chas says. “Have you tried just _asking_ her?”

You bite back another snort of disbelief. Yeah right.

Amazingly enough, John snorts instead. “Come off it,” he says. “She probably wouldn’t tell me if I asked.”

“Probably, not definitely,” Chas says. “And you won’t know until you actually try it.”

“Look, no matter what, I don’t know where her head is at,” John says. “And if I don’t know her intentions, then I can’t trust her in the field.”

“That’s not your call to decide if she’s ready to be out there or not,” Chas says. “She’s a grown woman, John. You ripped her from heaven, from peace and your daughter. You can’t expect her to be okay with that, ever. You should be happy she at least wants to do _something_.”

“I bloody know that,” John snaps. “But I also can’t set her loose on this world. Not until she can control herself.”

You stop listening then, too annoyed and angry to bother caring about Chas’s response. Instead you head into your room to do some thinking. Good to know your mental exercises are working. As far as you can tell he didn’t know you were listening, otherwise he wouldn’t have kept talking. He can’t feel you as much as he used to be able to. That’ll come in handy when you leave.

Once in your room, you sit heavily on your bed and consider your options.

You could wait until he falls asleep, but that could be hours from now and there’s no telling if it’ll be a deep sleep. Knowing him, probably not.

Your eye catches the whiskey bottle on your dresser. It was one of the ones from your loft and you had found it amongst your stuff when you were searching for clothes. You know John’s already had a few drinks. It wouldn’t take much to get him hammered. That’ll definitely make him sleep deeply. Once he passes out after drinking, you could pretty much roll him out of bed and onto the floor without him so much as twitching. You’ve done it before.

Drunk, sleepy John wouldn’t notice you leaving.

Chas might notice if he hasn’t retired to his room already, but you’ll deal with that if it comes down to it. From what you heard, you know you can talk Chas into letting you leave. You can’t talk John into it.

So when you hear John retreat to his room, you grab the bottle and two glasses.

“Come in,” he says when you knock on his door. You open it and step inside, kicking it closed behind you.

“Truce,” you say, putting the bottle and glasses on his nightstand.

You can see John’s shoulders relax slightly. He probably thought you were there to have another go a him. “Bloody, thank you,” he says, eagerly reaching to unscrew the bottle. “I’m sorry too. We will go out into the field soon. But not for this job. Werewolves can be nasty pieces of work. If you’re not careful, it only takes one bite.”

“Yeah, I know the lore,” you tell him as he pours both you a generous amount of alcohol. “Less talking, more drinking.”

“Aye, I can do that,” John says. He hands you a glass and clinks his against yours in a toast.

You sit next to him on the bed and pretend to take a sip as he takes a large swig. After that, you make small talk as you drink. When John isn’t looking or is too preoccupied with talking, you pour him more whiskey. He’s too buzzed to realize you’re not really drinking and as time progresses, he gets drunker and drunker until his words slur slightly and he finally slams his glass down on the nightstand.

By this point the bottle is mostly empty, and you’ve barely even finished your first glass.

“Now,” he says, turning to you expectedly, as you knew he would. “Come gives us a little something, ey?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him affectionately. You had prepared for this outcome. Because when John’s drunk, he’s also horny. You get up and kick out of your boots as he undoes his tie and moves to lay in the middle of the bed. You put your glass down next to his before crawling over his body. He’s stretched out on his back already and his hands run up your bare thighs as he pushes your dress up.

“Fine, but only making out,” you tell him. “You’re way too drunk for sex.”

“Bollocks!” John exclaims. With a quick tug on your hips, he pulls you down so you’re lying directly on top of him. “Never stopped me before.”

“Maybe when the other person is equally as drunk,” you say, running your hand through his hair. He hums with appreciation. “I’m not quite there.”

“A woman who can hold her liquor,” John says with a drunken grin. “is a woman after my own heart.”

You raise your eyebrow at his choice of phrasing. “Am I after your heart, John?” you can’t help but ask, dropping your voice into a husky tone.

“Oh love, you know you have it already,” he purrs, leaning up. “Now come on and give us a kiss.”

His hand comes up to grasp the back of your head and he brings you down to kiss him before you can respond. His lips slide against yours clumsily in his drunken haze so you take control, slipping your tongue into his mouth with a soft sigh. He whimpers and you practically swallow the sound.

You can feel his erection through his pants and you reach down to unbutton them.

The hand not gripping your head moves to squeeze your hip excitedly. He wasn’t expecting you to actually touch him. You can tell by the desperate way he presses into you. You reach into his pants and grasp his cock, stroking him with firm and quick movements. When he’s like this, you know there’s only one way he wants things and you’re happy to give it to him. Because you know that means he’ll immediately pass out after.

Drunken confessions aside, you’re still determined to get away for a bit. If it had been a sober confession that would have been one thing.

So you jerk him off roughly, pumping him the way you know brings him quickly to the edge. He’s too drunk and lost in the sensation to reciprocate, which is just fine for you since you’re not expecting him to. His mouth is greedy and he barely lets you pull away to breathe. Every time you try, his grip in your hair tightens and he brings you right back down again.

When he eventually comes, his whole body convulses under you and you have to admit you feel proud of the effect you have on him. He collapses against the mattress panting as you remove your hand from his pants.

“Mmm, I’ll just have a little kip and then take care of you,” he mutters sleepily, turning his face into the pillow. He passes out before he can even clean himself. That was easier than you thought it would be.

You wipe your hand on his comforter and slip out of bed. You quietly step back into your boots, but he doesn’t even stir.

You tiptoe out of his bedroom and close the door quietly behind you. Once you’re sure he hasn’t heard, you hurry to your room as fast as you can. You try to keep your heart rate normal, try not to show your excitement so it doesn’t wake him up. You know it can. You distinctly remember waking up to his excitement one night as he took care of himself after you had been too tired to do it for him.

You already have a bag packed and you grab the duffel out from under your bed. You sling the strap over your shoulder and to a quick final scan of your room to make sure you’re not missing anything important.  

John is still fast asleep when you hurry past his room.

You make it all the way to the spiral staircase when a voice says, “And where do you think you’re going?”

You swear under your breath and turn around to face Chas. He looks very much like the disapproving dad and you feel like a teenager who has just been caught trying to sneak out. “Leaving,” you say, watching as he gets up from the couch. “For a few days. Maybe more.”

“I doubt John has agreed to that,” he says, coming to stand in front of you.

“See here’s the thing, Chas,” you say, adjusting your duffel. “Despite what he thinks, John’s not my fucking keeper, so I don’t really need him to agree to it. He doesn’t get to tell me what to do. I need some time. I need to process this. I can’t do that when he’s holding onto me so tight I can’t fucking breathe.”

“I get it,” Chas says, eyes soft with understanding. “I really do. And I’m not going to stop you. You’re a grown woman. Pretty sure you could take me out if I even tried to stand in your way. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now. But John cares about you. He really does.”

“I know he does,” you tell Chas. “But if he wanted me to stay, he needed to ask me directly to stay. Stop this excuse bullshit.”

“You know John,” Chas says with a half shrug. “He’s one giant excuse. Can say what’s on his mind, but not in his heart.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” you mutter. You consider it for a moment before reaching over and giving Chas a hug. He hugs you back tightly and you place a peck on his cheek. “Take care of him, Chas.”

“I’ll do what I can. You know I won’t be able to stop him from coming after you once he wakes up,” Chas says as you pull away.

You tap your temple. “I’ll be able to tell when he’s coming,” you say. “He won’t find me.”

“Take care of yourself,” Chas says.

“You too.”

When the cool air whips past your face, you feel relieved. Your car is still parked where you had left it all those months ago and you slide into the driver’s seat. The key is actually still in the ignition and to your relief, the car roars to life when you turn it. You don’t have much gas, but you aren’t very far from one of your emergency storage units so you think you can make it.

You have several locations in the area where you have a car, cash and bare essentials stashed in case you need to make a hasty getaway. John wouldn’t know about any of them and the payment for them comes out of your accounts automatically, so they should be undisturbed. You roll the windows down as you drive away from the Mill House. The further you get away from the building, the more you let your mental guard down to test the connection. You and John haven’t been apart since you got back and you’re curious to see how it feels when you’re not around him.

His presence is no where near as overpowering as it was before. In fact, you can barely feel him if you let your mind wander. You do feel a little sad, and your heart definitely aches. You can’t be certain that’s just the connection, though. Obviously you’d be sad about leaving. After the cruise, you at least always had an idea of when you’d see John again. You regret things being this way. But, you need to evaluate your own feelings and decide what you want. You know you want John. That much is clear. Yet, life has dealt you a second chance and you need to not waste it locked away in the Mill House.

The drive is uneventful. You didn’t realize how late it was until you pull up outside the storage unit. It’s nearly ten and the clouds have blocked out the moon so you can barely see. You park your car close to the unit door so you can you keep your lights on and see what you’re doing. You’ll move it when you’re sure your other car is good to go. You climb out and take your unit key out of your pocket.

When you open the unit, you smile as you see your stuff is still there. The car is a little dusty, but looks good. There’s no sign that anyone has been poking around your stuff, so that’s also a plus. You open the door of the black economy car and find the key taped to the underside of the driver’s seat. The car starts immediately. The tank is already full.

You leave it running so it can warm up for a bit as you walk around to the back of the car. You pop the trunk and take stock of what you have inside.

There’s another duffel and you open it to find a huge wad of cash, some clothes and toiletries. There’s also a couple of weapons. Perfect.

Everything looks to be in place so you go back to your old car to grab your other bag and turn it off. You cut the lights and as soon as you remove the key from the ignition, you hear it. A very distinct howl. You look up at the sky and the clouds have moved to show a full moon.

“Shit,” you swear, hurriedly closing the door. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you rush back into the storage unit. You close the trunk and toss your bag into the backseat. As soon as you climb behind the wheel and slam the door, you catch a glimpse of something in your rearview mirror.

Apparently the werewolf wasn’t very far away. You can see its red eyes glowing through the darkness as it stalks towards you. “Really? Really? Are you fucking kidding me?!” you exclaim, locking your doors. You turn and climb into the backseat for your duffel. Before you can open it however, you hear the sound of paws on the concrete floor as the werewolf comes into the unit. You immediately freeze, trying to keep from breathing too loudly. Your heart is beating wildly and you know the beast can hear it. The creature circles your car, its nails tapping gently against the ground. It looks like a normal wolf, except much larger with bigger fangs. You remain as still as possible, holding your breath as it passes by the rear door.

Suddenly, your world rocks as the werewolf throws its body against the side of your car. The car nearly lifts onto two wheels before crashing back down onto all four of them.

You grip the seats to remain still, willing your heart rate to slow down. You need to keep yourself calm. The last thing you need is to panic.

The werewolf hits the car again, and again your world shakes.

“Fuck this!” you snap, hurriedly opening your bag. The werewolf won’t give up. It has your scent. You need to arm yourself and fast. You find a pistol, but it’s not loaded so you have to dig around for the right clip. The wolf hits the car a third time and your door dents inwards slightly. It’s not enough to open it however, and for that you count yourself lucky. “Silver bullets, silver bullets, shitfuckdamnshitfuckdamn…”

There a loud growl and then the werewolf is on the trunk of the car, staring at you through the back windshield with hungry eyes. Its teeth are bared and its mouth is practically frothing. Gross.

You grab the clip just as the creature slams itself against the windshield. The glass holds however. It’s too thick to crack. Another stroke of luck.

“Shit, shit, shit!” you swear, climbing back into the driver’s seat. You put the car in reverse and hit the gas. The car shoots backwards fast, knocking your other car out of the way with a sickening crunch. The werewolf digs its nails into the trunk however and stays put. You swerve a little, hoping to shaking it loose. It doesn’t work. Until you slam on your breaks. The werewolf loses its grip and slides off with a whine.

Your hands are trembling as you put the car in park and fumble to put the clip into the pistol. You’re just able to load it when there’s another growl and the werewolf jumps against the driver side door this time. You react instantly, turning and pointing your gun at the window. The werewolf tries again, but this glass isn’t as thick as the back windshield. It’s cracks against the assault, but if you shoot now you run the risk of using your bullets on the glass, not the beast. So you scramble backwards into the passenger seat, gun trained firmly on the werewolf as it continues to slam itself against the window, using its head to try to get through the glass.

“Come on, you fucker,” you mutter, cocking your gun. “Break the glass, I dare you.”

Which in hindsight is a really fucking stupid thing to say you immediately realize.

As soon as the glass shatters, you fire two shots. That’s all you manage to since the werewolf slamming its body against the car rocks it again. Your back hits the passenger’s door and your shots miss their intended target. The first bullet grazing the werewolf’s ear and the second hits the roof of the car. The creature reaches for you with its large front paws, nails digging into your leg before you can pull away in time.

They leave three deep gashes in their wake as you draw your knees to your chest. The pain barely registers and you ready your gun again. You fire several more times and this time they hit. As the werewolf retreats with a howl, a yellow cab comes screeching out of nowhere, hitting the beast so hard it goes flying.

You collapse against the seat with a “Fuck!” as your leg starts to bleed all over the driver's side. You only last that way for a second because you know you have to make sure the fucking thing is dead. You hobble your way out of the car and drag yourself around the back of it to see the werewolf. It's still growling as it tries to get to its feet, but you fire the rest of your clip into its head.

It collapses once more and twitches, before eventually laying still. After a moment, the body turns back into a man and you have to turn away so you can’t see his unfortunate face. Poor bastard.

Panting heavily, you lean against the damaged car with a wince.

“Are you bloody insane?!” John’s angry voice explodes out of him as he opens the passenger side door. He hops out and you can see that he’s limping as well. If you’re in pain, then he’s definitely in pain.

“Lola, are you okay? Did it bite you?” Chas asks. You barely even see him get out of the car before he’s at your side already. He slips his arm around your waist so you can lean your weight against him instead of the car. You hiss as your leg throbs and you hear John swear as well.

“No, no, just a scratch, no bite,” you assure them. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“What possessed you to think you could take this thing on your own?” John asks when he finally is able to make his way over to you and Chas.

You sigh heavily. “I wasn’t hunting on my own,” you snap. “The poor guy must have been out here to get away from people. The town is miles away. Probably hoped to isolate himself. I have really shitty timing.” Your leg is still bleeding heavily. “Now heal me. This fucking stings.”

You hold out your hand and you can tell John is contemplating not taking it. If it was any other situation, you wouldn’t blame him. But you're hurting badly, which means he’s hurting so he begrudgingly grabs your hand. As soon as your skin touches his, the pain goes away and the blood stops flowing. You look down to watch with fascination as the claw marks knit themselves closed.

“If you weren’t hunting, what the bloody hell were you doing out here?” John demands, letting your hand slip from his.

You glance at Chas, who removes his arm from your waist now that you can stand on your own. “I’ll start to clean up,” he says, excusing himself.

You don’t answer John and when he looks between you and the car, you see him put two and two together. It’s not difficult to realize what’s going on. Storage unit. Stashing your car and getting another one. He can probably also see the duffel in the back seat.

“I see,” he says in a clipped tone. “Didn’t even feel the need to leave a note? Get me drunk and tired so you can sneak away?”

“You left me no choice,” you tell him. “And now’s really not the time to talk about it. We need to help Chas take care of this mess.” And you need time to figure out what you’re going to say to him. It’s a cheap shot, you know. But you’re beyond the point of caring.

John clenches his jaw tightly, but doesn’t press you further. Chas has gotten behind the wheel of your car and you and John back up so he can drive it into the storage unit. It’s large enough for you to store both cars. Sadly they are pretty banged up and are of no use to you at the moment. You scour the ground for any shell casings and once you’ve found them all, you go and collect your belongings from both cars. Carrying them to the cab is frustrating because it can only mean one thing.

You have to go back to the Mill House.

You can feel John’s eyes on you pretty much the entire time, but you don’t meet his gaze. You don’t need to know how they found you. He probably felt your presence leave as you drove away. You worried about it as soon as you let your wards fall. It’s the only explaination for him getting to you so quickly.

Once Chas has taken care of the cars and the three of you have collected any broken glass or smashed pieces of your vehicles, you lock up the unit. John’s talking on his phone when you finish. You’re not sure who he called, but from the sound of things, it seems like he’s asking someone for a favor.

Not knowing what else to do, you climb into the back of cab. Chas is already waiting in the front seat. “How bad?” you ask him as you close the door behind you.

“He didn’t even wait for me to say anything,” Chas reports. “He just knew. Never seen him sober up that quickly.”

John comes back to the cab and climbs into the passenger seat. “All taken care of,” he announces. “Got someone to come and clean up the body. They’re used to these sorts of things. They'll figure out who the poor sod is and give the body a proper burning just to make sure.”

“We done here?” Chas asks. You know he’s talking to John, but he’s looking at you in the mirror.

John casts a quick look over his shoulder at you before pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket. “Yeah, we’re done here. Let’s go home.”

You bite back a sigh and slump against the seat.

The entire drive back to the Mill House is dead silent. You sit in the back, arms crossed, mind focused on your mental wards. Now that you’re in the same place again, you’re almost overwhelmed by John’s presence. But you keep yourself in line. It’s going to be a shit show when you get back so you start thinking of everything you want to say to him, because it’s a very long list.

A few minutes pass before John pulls a bottle of water out of the glove compartment and tosses it back to you. He knows you’re thirsty and that you want to clean your leg.

You catch the bottle and take a swing from it before using the rest to wash away the blood. You grab a random article of clothing from your bag and dry yourself off before shoving everything back into the duffel.

After that, all three of you are still. Except for John who occasionally exhales smoke out the open window. Eventually he flicks his cigarette away and then he’s still too.

The ride back is much longer than it should have been. Or maybe it just felt that way. Chas drives up to the house and the three of you climb out. You grab for your duffels, but Chas takes them for you without asking. You appreciate it because even though your leg is healed, it still aches slightly.

Once inside the house, Chas all but makes a beeline for the hallway, leaving you and John alone in the living room. You hear him drop your stuff off in your room before he retreats to his own.

John shrugs out of his trenchcoat and tosses it on the ground as he shoves his hand into his pants pocket. He pulls out another cigarette and you watch as he puts the end between his lips. You remain still, arms folded across your chest. You were almost there. Almost free. You should have known better.

You will never be free of John Constantine.

The air is thick with tension.

John’s hands are on his hips as a cigarette dangles from his mouth. He begins to pace slightly, and you don’t need the connection to know exactly how furious he is.

“You gonna actually talk to me or just keep glaring and brooding?” you ask angrily, after nearly ten minutes of silence. You should be careful, but of course it’s you so fuck that.

“What’s there to say, Lola?” John asks, stopping his movements to look at you. “You want to leave? Go ahead, leave!”

“First off, how? Don’t have a means of transportation,” you say. “Second off, you need to see this from my perspective. I have no idea where I fit in anymore! I gave up everything to save you. I accepted my death and was at peace and now I’m back here and suddenly I have to live. I have no idea what to do. And keeping me locked up here isn’t going to help! I can’t just sit around and do nothing. At least out there I can start to pull together some semblance of a new life!”

“Well, there’s nothing stopping you anymore,” John practically snarls as he removes the cigarette from his mouth. A cloud of smoke circles his head as he exhales sharply. “You made your point. Go ahead, door's wide open!” He turns his back on you and you resist the urge to punch him in the back of the head. Even though you really want to. You even ball your hands up into fists.

“Really, John? Really? There’s nothing stopping me?” you ask, your anger getting the better of you as you cross the room to stand in front of him. “Don’t fucking turn your back on me! Look me in the eye and tell me that I don’t have a reason to stay.”

When he does look back at you, you not only see the anger in his face, but the hurt. He doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you stay with him. Why can’t he just fucking say it? Instead of just coming up with excuse after excuse as to why you should stay. The connection. What you’ve been though. But not once has he asked you to stay because he wants you to stay.

“Lola,” he says.

“No, don’t ‘Lola’ me, John,” you snap, shrugging out of your jacket. You let it fall to the ground as you reach out to yank the cigarette out of his mouth. You drop it onto the carpet, putting it out with your boot before it can do any damage. “You know why I sacrificed myself for you. You saw my heaven. You know my feelings towards you. Yet, when it comes down to it, you won’t step up and say what you really want to say.”

His face doesn’t change as you talk, just remains twisted into the narrow glare he has adopted. You don’t let that stop you. Because now that you’re finally getting the words out, they will not be stopped.

“I needed to leave because I needed to sort out what to do with this new life you just shoved into my hands. The one I didn’t ask for. And you poke and prod and make us meditate on this stupid connection, trying to force your way into my head. Did you really think I wouldn’t get fed up with it?”

Your chest is heaving and your hands are clenched so tightly your nails dig into your palms. You see John flex his own hands at the sensation.

“You want to know why I shut you out? Because I can’t stand feeling things from you I know you’ll never admit out loud. Sober at least. A few sloppy drunk confessions just aren’t going to cut it for me, Constantine. Before this connection, I was fine because I could delude myself into thinking this was just casual fun. Because that’s what we talked about, right? No love? You were worried about me falling in love with you? We are way past the point of this being fucking casual. We passed that point before I fucking saved your life. We passed that point the second you chose to stay with me on that cruise.”

Now he’s blocking you out. He doesn’t want you to feel what he’s feeling. And for some reason, that makes you angrier so you bite the bullet and tell him what you really want to say. The words you’ve been holding back for days coming pouring out at such an alarming rate, you can’t stop them. “I want to leave, but I want you to ask me to stay more than anything else. I want you to admit you want me. Because I want you. And if you’re too fucking stupid to see that, then fuck this shit. I’m done.”

Your heart is beating hard against your ribcage. John stands stock still, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he studies your face. You can feel his presence in your mind again, and this time you’re able to push his feelings back without closing yourself off completely. It lets him feel what you’re feeling, if only for a moment. Just so he knows how much you truly mean what you’re saying.

After a full minute of no answer, you give a snort of disbelief and turn away from him. Fine, guess you have your answer then. If he’s too much of a pussy to tell you how he feels, fuck it. Fuck it all. But his voice stops you as he calls your name. Not ‘Lola’. Your real name. The one he’s never uttered and the one you forgot you asked Zed to tell him. You whip your head back around to look at him.  

“Please stay,” he pleads. “I want you to stay here, with me.”

You launch yourself at him and he catches you instantly, arms tightening around you as he crushes you to his chest. Your mouths connect in a fierce kiss, practically devouring each other. He stumbles and the back of his knees hit the armrest of the couch. You pull back from the kiss to push on his shoulders and make him sit. “Was that so fucking hard?” you ask, undoing his tie.

That’s literally all you wanted. True, leaving would help you, and you will definitely consider still doing it. But for fuck’s sake, you both need to stop dancing around your feelings for each other. It’s exhausting.

“I’ll tell you what’s hard,” he growls back. One arm snakes around your waist again as he traps you between his legs. With his free hand he pushes up the skirt of your dress, sliding his hand between your legs. “Remembering how we were before this happened, how practically every other bloody week I had you spread beneath me, begging for release. How no matter how bad the job was, I knew you were relatively safe and I had your visits to look forward to. How when we weren’t together I could still feel your hands on me and your pretty lips wrapped around my cock.” He shoves your panties to the side impatiently and drags his thumb across your slit.

Your knees immediately buckle and you pause the unbuttoning of his shirt so you can grab his shoulders again, this time for support. You let out a moan and it seems to urge him on.

“Remembering every moan, every curse, every filthy word the came from your wonderful mouth. Remembering how you smiled at me afterwards, how you laughed, how you felt in my arms, how you looked at me…” This was turning into a much different kind of confession. Not that you’re complaining. You can feel the connection straining against your mental wards, but you keep them in place. You can’t afford to let yourself get consumed. Not right now. Not when you’re finally fucking getting somewhere with John.

His fingers are rough as he slides two inside of you and you moan louder this time at the unexpected sensation, tensing immediately to clamp down around him. He grunts in response.

“The thought of losing that, losing you, again,” John hisses, fingering you as he looks up at your face, his chin digging into your abdomen. “I can’t stand it. I won’t do it. I _won’t_. And if I have to beg you to stay to make sure that doesn’t happen, well then I’ll do just that. I’m not above begging when it gets me what I want.”

“What do you want, John?” you groan through your pleasure. “Come on, tell me what you want, baby?”

“You.”

You can barely form a coherent thought after that. Your hands move to tangle in his hair as you press yourself against him. His thumb is rubbing your clit and you can already feel your orgasm approaching fast.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp. “I’ll stay with you.”

It’s his turn to let out a moan and he buries his face in your stomach. The arm around your waist tightens even more as he holds you as close as he can, fingering you until come right there against the couch, biting your lip to keep from getting any louder.

He withdraws his hand almost immediately after, but it’s only so he can work on removing the rest of his clothing. You hurry to do the same, dropping your dress and panties in a heap on the ground and kicking impatiently out of your boots.

When he’s fully naked, he stands and pulls you into a tight hug, mouth seeking yours hungrily. You let him take control of the kiss, but only for a moment, and only so you can distract him enough to push him backwards onto the couch. Once you do, you clamber onto his lap and his arms come around you again. His cock is hard and hot between your legs and you grind against it for a few seconds before reaching down to grasp him firmly.

He groans as you slide onto him, your body barely needing any time to adjust before he begins to thrust. You feel your hold on your connection starting to slip again, but you do everything in your power not to lose yourself to the sensation. Even though it’s so fucking tempting.

You collapses against his chest, letting him continue the pace you set. John’s thrusts are deep and quick, wanting you to feel every inch of him as much as possible. It’s on the verge of too much, but you can’t stop. Won’t stop.

One of John’s arms slips from your waist and his hand grabs your ass tightly, directing each gyration of your hips so it coincides with his cock burying inside you to the hilt. His other arm crushes you against him so there’s no room for you to move. No where for you to run even if you were considering it at this point.

You lay on top of him completely at his mercy, one hand gripping the couch cushion just next to John’s shoulder while the other clings to the armrest above his head.

The heat rushes through you in waves and it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to be consumed by it. You try to focus on your own feelings and emotions, but John’s are still there, a heavy presence in the back of your mind that you can’t shake anymore. You’re not even sure if you really still want to.  

“Come on,” he pants against your lips in between open-mouthed kisses. “Don’t fight it, love.”

He wants you to give into the connection. He wants you to be consumed by him so that you forget you even thought about leaving him. But you can’t let yourself. You’re afraid. You’re afraid to give into the magic and surrender yourself. Because if you let yourself join John, if you succumb, where would that leave you? Who would you be then? Yes you are choosing this. Yes you are choosing to stay with him. But you won’t sacrifice yourself to do it. Not again.

So you fight him mentally as he continues to ravage your body. You kiss him back harshly, you move along with his thrusts. You block out his emotions. Even though you’ve come once already, you can feel your body gearing up for a second time. John hasn’t come yet, but he’s close. You know he is. He can never seem to last long in these intense moments. Though you don’t know why he’s holding back, why he’s dragging this out and being so determined. He’s never been one to put off his own pleasure when it's reached the point of no return.

Which it most certainly has.

“Lola,” he moans, though you can swear it’s more of a whine. “Let me feel you.”

Feel you? He’s been burying himself into you relentlessly for what seems like eternity. How much more of you does he want to feel?

Then it clicks.

_Oh._

He doesn’t want you to be consumed by him. He wants you to open the connection so he can be consumed by _you_. He wants to be the one overpowered by you. He wants to be the one to practically drown in the magic that is keeping you tethered to each other. He wants to feel everything you're feeling again. While you’ve been fighting losing yourself in the moment, he’s been doing the opposite. He wants to drown in the flurry of sensations. He wants to jump over that edge, together.

That certainly changes things.

“You wanna feel me?” you pant, a slow smile creeping across your face as you start to grind down harder against him.

He grunts and the hand that’s not gripping your ass comes up to cup your cheek, forcing you back so you can see his face. His eyes are so dark they could almost be black in dim light of the living room and his teeth are clenched as he tries to keep himself from coming. “Let me in,” he growls.

You close your eyes, smash your mouth against his and grant him his wish.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced in your life. The flood of emotions sends your body into the same frenzy it had done a month ago but this time when you come, it’s like your skin is erupting with electricity. You can feel John come inside you as you both practically scream at the overflow of sensations.

The air around you shifts suddenly and several light bulbs burst in a dazzling array of sparks. The fire in the fireplace roars back to life for several moments before dying back down again. Books fly off the shelves, landing in a heap on the floor.

John keeps moving under you until he’s emptied himself completely into your limp body. Only then does he slow to a stop, arms circling your waist tightly to make sure you don’t move to get off him. Not that you could if you tried. You’re pretty sure your legs don’t work anymore and you can barely catch your breath.

Your chests are moving so fast, you have to force yourself to take slow deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating. You’re both drenched in sweat and his head falls back against the armrest.

John smooths your hair away from your face and then he’s kissing you. It’s no where near as brutal as before. This kiss is gentle and sweet. Almost apologetic. You can’t do much except clumsily kiss him back, until that proves too much for you and you let your lips trail away from his.

“Fuck me,” you manage to pant.

John gives a breathless chuckle. “That I did, love,” he says, giving you a smack on the ass. “That I did.” You barely even flinch at the contact.

“We...did stuff,” you say, giving a half-hearted wave to the room around you.

“Sex magic is a powerful thing,” John says, nuzzling his face in your hair. “Though I’ve never been involved when it’s been this powerful.”

“It can’t be like this every time,” you say. “We’re going to destroy the house if it is.”

John chuckles again. “I imagine it was this intense since it’s the first time,” he says. “Won’t know more until we explore it further.”

“I can’t even move my legs,” you tell him. “No further exploring for a little while.”

You can feel him smirk. “Can you feel it?” he asks softly.

“Yeah, you’re still inside me--”

“No, not that,” John says. “The connection.” He tilts your face up towards his and kisses you again, albet briefly. “Feel the connection.”

It certainly feels different. John’s presence doesn’t feel like much of an intrusion anymore. It’s once again difficult to differentiate between his emotions and yours, but you suspect that’s because you’re both pretty on par with each other, at least for the moment. You don’t know how to describe it other than a feeling of completion.

It’s a scary notion that you are not at all ready to deal with, but you don’t have the energy to fight it so you bask in it. You let his feelings wash over you as you close your eyes. His hand makes a light trail up and down your back and you let go of the couch so you can touch him instead. You slide your arms around his neck and bring your foreheads together so they’re lightly touching.

He kisses you and you respond eagerly. It’s almost like a compulsion actually. You both need to be touching each other right now otherwise you had no clue what will happen. And you really don’t want to find out. When he draws back slightly he hesitates before saying, “I’m sorry, for being a complete wanker.”

You chuckle. “Apology accepted,” you say. Your heart swells and the words you really want to say are stuck in your throat. You can’t say them, but you know John feels them. You can tell by the way his eyes widen and his smile falters slightly.

“Lola,” he says. He pauses to swallow thickly and your smile also fades as you can feel the words coming from him as well. “I--”

“What the hell happened--OH GOD! Seriously you two!” Chas exclaims as he comes into the living room. He immediately shields his eyes from the sight of you both naked on the couch.

“God dammit, Chandler,” you snap, shooting him a glare over your shoulder. “Way to fucking ruin the moment.”

“I heard shit breaking and came to make sure you weren’t tearing each other apart,” Chas says. He shuffles to a corner of the room and pulls a blanket out of one of the cabinets. Without looking he tosses it towards the couch. It lands on yours and John’s feet.

“Well, there was a bit of that,” John says with a smug smirk as you detach yourself from him so you can grab the blanket. He helps you unfold it and drapes it so it covers both of you. “But not in the way you’re thinking.”

When he’s sure you’re covered, Chas chances a look in your direction and relaxes his shoulders. “I’m sure I’ll catch a replay at some point,” he says, motioning towards the magic mirror on his way to the kitchen.

“Shit,” you swear. You forgot about that. Now you remember why there was a “no sex in the living room” rule. If you and John wanted a replay of your sexual encounters you’d use a camera like normal people.

“I wouldn’t mind that, actually,” John says. He reaches down to blindly feel around on the floor for his pants. He finds them and draws out a box of cigarettes and his lighter.

“Of course you wouldn't, perv,” you tease. John shoots you a cheeky grin.

“So I take it you’re staying, Lola?” Chas asks, opening the refrigerator and pulling out various items.

John raises his eyebrow as you glance down at him. “Yeah, for a bit,” you say. You hit John on the chest. “But I can fucking leave whenever I want to, you got that, Constantine?”

“Yes, yes, love,” John’s response is muffled as he talks around the cigarette he just slid into his mouth. He lights the end and drops the lighter back on the floor. “I already get it was stupid of me to try to keep you here. Lesson learned.”

“Good,” you say. “I don’t understand why you know I will punch you in the mouth and yet you still do shit to piss me off.”

Chas laughs at this. “Have you met, John?” he teases, placing a few pans on the stove.

“Oh she’s met me,” John says. He takes a drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke off to the side so it doesn’t hit you in the face. “Every bit of me.” He punctuates his words with a slight thrust of his hips. He’s not inside of you anymore. The action still has the desired effect. Your body shudders at the implication, but you’re too tired to do anything about.

“Ugh, just stop talking,” you tell him. You snuggle against his chest, warm and content for the moment. “Wake me when the food is ready.”

You doze off to the steady rise and fall of John’s chest and the sounds of Chas in the kitchen. And for the first time since you awoke from heaven, you feel like you’re home.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr for series updates and teasers: ladyfogg.tumblr.com
> 
> I also started a sideblog for John Constantine screencaps: johnconstantinescreencaps.tumblr.com


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